


i've been sold in spite again.

by aceface



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-02
Updated: 2010-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-08 15:22:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/77026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aceface/pseuds/aceface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David Archuleta runs into David Cook while at college. David Cook just happens to be a hooker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i've been sold in spite again.

College is everything David thought it would be, it really is. He gets to study _music_, and music theory, and just everything about it and just -- David had thought that he knew about music, but he hadn't, not really. Because this -- there's just so much, and it's just awesome. David is a total dork, he knows this, but he's started reading ahead in his textbooks just for fun. It's so weird how, like, music can be written down, and David is always the first to answer questions in class and okay, he can see his classmates rolling their eyes but he doesn't _mean_ to be such a big dork, it just... kind of happens?

Anyway, all David wanted out of college was to, um, learn new things and maybe get further away from his family. Not that he doesn't love them because he does, he loves them so much it hurts sometimes, but -- they're just so much, and David feels like... well, they're all just such strong personalities, is all, Claudia and Daniel and Jazzy and Amber, and David feels like he gets lost among them. And he's defined by them and it's just, it's not, it's -- David can do more than sing. And now he gets to be independent and prove that and be who he wants--

And it's good, it really is. "It is," David tells himself, and across the room Paul looks up and glares and says, "Dave, man, keep it down. And can you stop singing? Fuck, it's like living with a jukebox."

Well. Okay, so David hadn't really thought about -- the room situation. He hadn't really thought about the social side of college, really, except when Daniel brought it up and smirked at him and David had been all, "I totally have friends, okay." Which he did, he _does_, but that's in Utah and -- who knew? -- apparently, New York City is very different to Murray, Utah, and the people are, too. David had kind of expected Juilliard to be filled with, um, people like _him_, into music, and a little awkward, but either they're all _really_ into music (which David is, but he would kind of like to be able to have fun, too?) or they're all -- drama students.

Drama students, and dance students, are either incredibly focused or just -- like Paul, for example. Paul is David's roommate, and Paul is a drama student, and Paul is -- Paul is a jerk. David doesn't really want to say it, even in his head because it still makes him feel guilty, and he'd definitely never say it out loud but Paul is a total jerk. He's the kind of guy that David thought he'd get away from coming here, but Paul is apparently a super talented drama student. It still doesn't mean that he isn't a jerk, though. He yells at David all the time, and brings girls back to the room.

The good thing is, though, that Paul has way more of a social life than David does (although, um, _any_ kind of social life would be an improvement on David's severe lack of one, but whatever) and that means that David gets the room to himself nearly all weekend. And it's not like he does anything that he couldn't do in, like, the library or whatever -- he just tidies up a little and hums to himself and calls Jessica or Fish, but it's still nice to have a little privacy.

Of course, this means that eventually it's Paul's turn to have a party and David gets told to make himself scarce. He panics, a little bit, because -- where is he going to _go_? It's like -- it's ten pm, and Paul said he isn't allowed back until, like, two am, and just -- David doesn't have anywhere to go. He must look pretty scared because Paul softens and says, "Dude, Dave, you can stay if you really want."

David would, as well, if Paul hadn't called him 'Dave' -- a nickname that David can't stand, gosh, he's not a _Dave_, he'd rather go back to being Lettuce Boy -- and David ends up pulling a face and saying, "No, I'm okay, thanks." He smiles as well, but that's just because he feels rude otherwise, especially after Paul offered to let him stay. Still, David clearly has places to be -- or at least, he has to be at places that _aren't_ here. 

The library's open all night, which is good, like a 24/7 kind of thing. This is because people leave their projects or whatever until the last minute, but it works out well for David because it means he has someplace to go. There's no one else there, though, like there even would be on a Friday night, but David had kind of been hoping. Maybe someone else would've been there and he could've made friends with them -- it's just, David isn't some kind of, like, loner, he's just -- no one here is the friendly type, is all. Not the type that David's used to, anyway.

David stays at the library for a while anyway, catching up on some of his work, before his stomach starts to growl. It's really embarrassing, actually, because the library is deathly quiet and he's sure that the lady behind the desk heard him. She looks up, and David smiles apologetically before getting his stuff together. He feels awkward staying there any longer, and there'll be some kind of all night diner open in the city anyway. Because, well, it's New York City, and okay, so David hasn't exactly been into the city before (he's been spending most of his time on campus) but this is just the perfect opportunity, right?

Besides, maybe David doesn't want to be the guy who just sits around in his dorm all the time and does nothing anymore. Instead of studying in, like, his room or the library, he's going to study in an all night diner instead. Okay, so it's not as big of a deal as going to a party would be but, um, David doesn't really like parties. And eveyrone at home will totally be impressed when he tells them he's been in a diner in New York City, so there.

Finding a diner is much easier said than done. David's almost tempted to just sit in Central Park; the stars are out by now and it'd be totally pretty, but he's heard horror stories about what goes on there after dark and, okay, so maybe people were trying to scare him, but. David still gives it a wide berth. It's like, midnight, and if scary things were going to happen then midnight would be the time, is all. David's seen the movies, it's like the witching hour or something. He manages to find a diner after wandering for what feels like _hours_ (but is only, according to David's watch, about a half hour). 

He's brought his books with him from the library, so it's easy enough to order a milkshake and some apple pie and spread them out across the table. David soon gets lost in music theory, and only realises the time when his phone buzzes in his pocket. It's Paul, and David frowns at the text as he attempts to translate; _hi so teh praei's dun u cna cum bk iv gon k_. The important thing is that David can apparently go home and Paul isn't there and while David doesn't like being on his own, the diner's beginning to feel empty and cold. It doesn't take him long to pack his books into his bag and pay for the milkshake and apple pie, and he feels more relaxed than he has in a while on his way home.

David sings as he walks home, just snatches of songs about being out at night and how awesome the world is, and he watches his breath turn to mist in the air. All in all, he's actually feeling pretty good about himself. He takes a left, and another left, and starts counting his steps as he walks. He soon gets into a rhythm, using it as the beat to keep himself in time while singing, and it's only when he stops to catch his breath that he glances up and realises that, um, he's not actually sure where he is right now.

His first thought is to panic, but his second thought is not to panic and to take deep breaths not think _oh my heck, oh gosh, how am I going to get back?_. It's just -- out of all the places David could've got lost this is, it's _New York City_, it's not the safest place in the world. Not only that but it's, like, three in the morning, and there are weird people around so he can't even ask for directions. David takes a few more deep breaths and makes himself glance around. Places look different at night, David knows this, and maybe he's just overreacting, maybe he'll realise that he does know where he is after all.

David takes a few steps, experimentally, and peers around the corner. His messenger bag bangs against his hip sharply and David bites down on his lip, forcing himself to remain calm. He's not a little kid anymore, he can -- he's independent, he can do this. He can. Even if he doesn't know where he is right now, well, it shouldn't be that hard to figure out. Juilliard is -- everyone knows where Juilliard is, someone will be able to help him. And even if the people are scary, David can be scary right back at them. He can act really mean and, um, fierce. And glare at them. So, not a problem.

He comes across -- well, it looks kind of like a backstreet, honestly, but there's whole groups of people stood around so maybe it's, like, outside a club or something. David takes a few more steps, hesitantly, trying to figure out why everyone's... there. There are some cars, as well, and people get in them so maybe it is a club and all these people are just waiting for cabs or just waiting for a ride. They're all dressed like they should be in a club so David's quite proud of himself for having figured it out, even if he can't see the entrance. He's trying to figure out which of the people would be most likely to help him when one of them puts a hand on his shoulder and turns him to face them.

"What are you doing here, kid?" The guy is -- kind of, um, hot. Not that David's shallow or anything, and he's also totally focused on getting back to Juilliard right now, he just can't help noticing. But anyway, that's not the point, the point is that the guy looks kind of -- angry, almost, and David is so taken aback that he can't really think of anything to say. "Are you even old enough?"

"Um, I'm eighteen?" David points out which, okay, maybe he's not old enough to get into the club but he's still not a kid. 

Something changes in the guy's expression, guarded and a little concerned, and he tugs David into a corner. "You need to be more careful, seriously. Are you honestly telling me that you --_want_ to be here?"

"I think so?" David tries hesitantly, but judging from the frown on the guy's face, that's not the right answer. "I just -- I want directions?"

"Directions," the guy repeats slowly, and David nods.

"To, um, Juilliard? I'm sorry, I mean, I totally wouldn't ask but I'm lost and I can't find my way back." He feels totally lame admitting it, especially when he's just said that he's eighteen, but the guy looks relieved if anything.

"Sure, I can take you there. But it's gonna cost you," he adds, and rubs his fingers together expectantly in front of David. David just looks stupidly at the guy's hand for a few moments and the guy rolls his eyes. "Time is money, kid. You want my time, it costs money. Simple equation."

And usually David would totally be all, don't be so rude! but he really wants to get back to Juilliard and just have the night be over already, gosh, and also the other people around are totally sort of -- looking at him weirdly. Kind of predatory, actually, and it's making David more than a little uncomfortable so he doesn't hesitate to dig into his wallet and push a few crumpled bills into the guy's hand. And what kind of person wants money just for helping someone, anyway? The guy's just lucky that David doesn't ever go out anywhere to spend his money or David would totally not pay him.

The guy doesn't even look at the bills before shoving them into his pocket and getting a firm grip on David's arm, manoeuvring him out of the alley easily. "It's a little less than what I'm used to, but it'll do," he says, his mouth quirking up into a smile.

"You get paid for showing people around?" David blurts out, before he's properly thought about it, and the guy stops to look at him.

"Uh, no. I get paid to have sex with people."

David stops dead without realising, flinging his arms up as he says, "So you're a -- you, um, you're --"

"A hooker," the guy deadpans, pushing David's arm down. "Why else would I be on a street corner at two in the morning?"

"You could have just come out of a club!" David points out, entirely reasonably despite the high pitch of his voice right now and the quirk of the guy's eyebrow. "And all those people -- I thought you were waiting for cabs! That's why -- oh my gosh, so _that's_ why all those cabs were stopping!" He frowns at the guy. "Don't laugh, okay, just because I'm not all -- all _edgy_ or whatever. Oh my heck, are you trying to solicit from me?"

The guy is bent over, laughing, with his hands on his knees. David would totally just walk off on his own, but he still has no idea where he is, so he has to wait until the guy stops laughing and straightens up. "Okay, how about we start over? Hi, I'm David Cook and I'm a hooker." His mouth's still twitching like he wants to laugh but he holds out a hand and David shakes it reluctantly.

"I'm David Archuleta."

"Popular name," the guy -- Cook, even, David can't bring himself to think of anyone as having the same name as him, it's just _weird_, okay, says. "I think I'm gonna call you Archie, though. You can just call me Cook," he adds which is good, because David was already planning to. 

It doesn't take long for them to reach Juilliard; it wasn't as far as David thought, and he must have been walking in circles for most of the time. They don't say anything, either, walking in silence but it's not awkward or anything. David never thought he'd feel comfortable with a hooker but he never thought he'd be walking around New York City in the morning either, and David can -- he can do this, he can be independent. 

"So have I, um, are you -- for the whole night?" David asks, and Cook seems to know what he means because he jams his hands into his pockets and says, "Are you trying to solicit me?"

"Oh, gosh, no," David insists, and Cook's laughing again but whatever. "No, I just -- I don't really, um. I just wondered if you'd come up to my room and, um, we could talk?"

Cook starts to say something but stops, shifting position. "You know what, yeah. I can do that. Just talking though, I saw your ID, you're underage for anything else."

David chooses to ignore this.

\---

Cook is actually really awesome. David had -- he'd thought hookers were all, well, women for one thing, or like, young boys, and he'd thought they'd all be kind of scary (which okay, they would've been if David had realised that's what they were, but still) and Cook isn't. A woman or, um, scary. It'd been awkward at first, and strange to see Cook sitting on Paul's bed, but it was nice not to be on his own and Cook didn't mind talking to David about his, um, job.

"I got into it because it made sense at the time," Cook explains with a shrug of his shoulders. "I've always liked sex, and I figured I might as well get paid for it."

"But don't you have, like, a real job?" David asks and, seeing Cook's face, explains "I just mean, you know, society... doesn't really view, um, you, as a proper job. Right? I don't, sorry if that was rude."

Cook laughs, and scrubs a hand over his face. "I don't know, man, it's not always that easy. I'm trying to make it in the music industry, and it costs a lot of money to get a demo cut. Couldn't do that being unemployed, this just seemed like a good option. It's not forever."

"Isn't it dangerous?" David asks doubtfully.

Cook just laughs, "At first, yeah, but you get used to it. It's like anything else. Besides, it's mostly regulars right now." David still isn't convinced, but Cook lightly knocks his knee against David's and says, "So what about you, Archie? Living the high life here in Juilliard?"

"Oh, kind of," David says vaguely, waving a hand, although the night's events should really tell Cook all he needs to know. "I don't know, I just -- I don't really get along with anyone?" It's easier than it should be to talk to Cook about it; maybe because he's a total stranger and can't tell anyone how lame David is, or maybe because there's just something about him. He just seems genuinely interested in what David has to say, brown eyes fixed intently on him, and David's stomach does a weird flip and okay, maybe he can see how Cook makes a living. Maybe.

David changes the subject to music, something they both enjoy talking about, and it doesn't feel like long before the sun begins to streak the sky. Cook checks his watch, pulling a face. "Shit, it's five thirty already, I should get going. Usually I'd charge by the hour but I guess I can let you off."

"I can pay, if you want?" David says but Cook laughs, shaking his head and pulling his leather jacket on. His hair's a mess from where he's been running his hand through it and David just -- if David was a soliciting kind of person, which he isn't, he'd solicit David Cook. "Um, can I see you again?" he asks hopefully.

Cook stops with his hand on the door to give David a shrewd look, making him flush. "If you want to hang out, then sure."

"Um, _yes_," David says, as though he hadn't been thinking of anything else, and something in Cook's shoulders relaxes.

"I don't want you going back to where I work," he says warningly. "How about I meet you outside here when I'm done? About the same time?"

It's not like Paul is ever home, so David doesn't have a problem saying yes right away. It's not like he's met anyone else here that he wants to spend time with, and he needs someone to talk to, especially someone who doesn't judge him or stare at him like he's an idiot. Even when Cook laughs at him, it's not like it's in a mean way, and David just -- he didn't realise how lonely he'd been feeling, and Cook makes him feel... normal. Which probably says just how _not_ normal David is, but whatever.

The next night, David is struggling with a particularly difficult composition when Cook turns up. And it's kind of awesome, because Cook glances down at the sheet and says, "Oh, hey, what about -- here, let me show you," and takes David's pencil and makes it _work_. And they -- Cook doesn't take over, or do it for him, but they just talk about it and throw around ideas and Cook is _so good_ when it comes to music.

The night after that, Cook lets himself in and David's in the middle of singing. He doesn't realise that Cook's there until he finishes, opening his eyes and blinking. "Um, hi?" It's kind of really embarrassing, especially since David's heard Cook sing before and he was basically awesome. Cook doesn't say anything at first, and David wishes that he'd realised what time it was and not been _singing_, gosh, but then Cook makes a face that David can't read and says, "Why didn't you tell me you could sing?"

"I did?" David says because, okay, he totally _did_, when Cook asked him why he was at Juilliard, but Cook sits down next to him and says, "Yeah, but not like _that_."

They end up singing together, and David just -- he wanted something like this, when he found out he was going to Juilliard, to meet someone like him who feels the same way about music that he does, and Cook is just -- he's everything David ever wanted, is all. And weeks pass, and Cook's still awesome, and David gets used to it and gets into a routine and so it's a bit of a surprise to him when he realises he's a little bit in love with Cook. And it's like... _oh_. And things start making more sense.

\---

David never used to drink before he went to college, obviously, being Mormon and all, it's just -- he's been... thinking about it, like, kind of questioning it. Not the actual whole God part of it, because David doesn't think there's any way he could not believe in that, just -- the whole homosexuality thing, really. It's a big question, and David's been thinking about it for a while now, even since before college. And Claudia told him to experiment, because it could only strengthen his faith and how is David ever going to understand the evils of alcohol if he hasn't even _tried_it?

So when Paul offers him a shot of something clear -- Paul always drinks before he goes out to a party, says it gets him "amped up" or something -- David hesitates for a moment before thinking, well, um, why not? He tips it back like he's seen Paul do (and Paul's watching him interestedly) and starts spluttering almost straight away. It burns going down, and is it supposed to do that? If it is then David totally doesn't get why people drink it regularly, but whatever. Paul laughs at him, but there's something new in his eyes that wasn't there before, and David thinks it looks a little like respect. Although, um, it could just as easily be something else.

They take turns drinking the shots and eventually the burning stops which is, um, good, although David's also a little worried that maybe it just killed all the feeling in his throat. But he only manages three anyway before the room starts spinning slowly (which is kind of relaxing, actually) and he's pretty sure that he'll throw up if he has anymore, so. He decides it's a good place to stop.

Paul invites David out to the party before he goes, and David says "No, thank you," politely because he might be warm and happy right now but he's still not brave enough to venture to one of Paul's parties. They're scary, he's heard _rumours_ about them, okay, and they are not the kind of place where David should be.

"You are so wasted," Paul says before he goes, laughing, but he's wrong. David doesn't actually think he's drunk at all; he's not falling over himself or laughing at nothing, like they do on the movies. He feels kind of cheated, he wanted a proper drunk experience, but then he remembers that Cook is going to come over tonight and so, um, it's probably for the best that David isn't drunk. He does feel, um, braver? And kind of more confident, but that's just, that could be anything, David could just be having an epiphany, it doesn't mean that he's _drunk_.

And then -- okay, so maybe he _is_ drunk but only a little, because Cook's in front of him before he realises that anyone's even entered the room. "Hi," David says, blinking up at him, and doesn't ask if he created him from the power of his _mind_. Instead, he does a sober impression and it must be a really good one because Cook doesn't even _notice_, just sits down on Paul's bed as usual and launches into some story or other.

David only tunes into the conversation when Cook's almost finished, distracted by the shapes Cook's mouth makes while he's talking. Cook has a very nice mouth and David's noticed this before, sure, but this time it's with an intensity that would almost be frightening if David wasn't feeling so awesome and brave about now.

"...so basically, I'm almost done," Cook finishes and David focuses with difficulty and says, "Oh, um, sorry, what?" He feels totally rude for not paying attention, but it's just taking all his concentration to, like, not just lie down on his bed and go to sleep right now, so. Cook laughs anyway, but his gaze sharpens on David.

"I said, we've almost got enough money to start recording. Only need about five hundred bucks, I should get that in about a week." He leans forward to bump his knee against David's, smiling widely. "Isn't that awesome?"

"Yes," David says decidedly, because that is definitely awesome. It is. Even though Cook won't want to come over and keep him company in the middle of the night anymore, but that's okay, because it's still awesome. "Oh, hey, I could, um -- I could help you out?"

It's the tequila or whatever that shot was, David decides later, because he would never have said it otherwise. He didn't even mean to say it this time, it just -- he just heard it coming out, heard himself saying it but there was _nothing he could do about it_. Something changes in Cook's expression, hard and closed off.

"What do you mean, Archie?" His voice is cold but -- well, he still called him Archie, so David figures he can't be that mad.

"I mean, um, I have, like, twenty bucks. That could help, right?" He's still talking and -- David is never drinking again, it's so weird, he wants to yell at himself to shut up.

"I'm not going to take money from you," Cook says firmly, and David laughs nervously.

"I could pay you? Um, I mean, twenty dollars, that could -- that should be worth a kiss." David's life is a disaster right now and he's just going to, like -- move to Iowa and become a hermit. He doesn't know what Iowa's like but no one will know him there, no one will look at him and be like, 'Oh, that's the guy that got drunk and tried to pay his only friend at college to kiss him,' so David figures it's safe enough. But right now, David's still in Juilliard and Cook is still sat in front of him and David's kind of -- he wouldn't ever admit this, but he's thought about it before.

Except when David thinks about it, in hs mind, Cook focuses that smouldering (okay, so David read one of his mom's romance novels, but it was _one time_ and Claudia and Daniel joined in and did the voices) intense stare on him and says in a low voice, 'But I don't need your money to do that,' or, uh, something. And then David says something really witty and cool (although he'd probably just stutter a lot and say 'Oh, gosh,') and then Cook, well, kisses him. And it's _awesome_, not like that one time David and Fish kissed each other to see what it was like.

But this isn't David's mind, unfortunately, and Cook just sort of looks at him and says, "Are you sure?"

"Gosh, _yes_," David says, and Cook leans forward and kisses him. It's sort of chaste, actually, close mouthed and just a peck (and it's kind of not worth twenty dollars but then it's _Cook_, so it kind of _is_) but David opens his mouth to say something and then, um. David always worried that when he kissed someone, he wouldn't know what to do, but with Cook -- it's weird, thinking about it, so David doesn't; just closes his eyes and feels Cook nip his lower lip and hears himself moan into Cook's mouth.

Cook pulls back first and David follows him, leaning instinctively, and Cook pushes him back with one hand. "That's your lot, Archuleta."

"Oh, um," David says, and then flushes, and then -- does Cook want David's money? He hasn't said that he _doesn't_, and David doesn't want to -- just because it, um, meant something to_him_, it didn't necessarily mean something to Cook. And David doesn't want to ruin things or make things all awkward or whatever, gosh, just because Cook felt sorry for him, so he digs around in his wallet and says, "Thank you?"

And it's like watching a shutter go down, because Cook just -- closes himself off completely, like he's not even _there_, and David feels sick to his stomach. It's just -- he didn't want to offend Cook, but now he realises that he probably _has_ and he's made a big mistake and oh gosh, what does he _do_? He opens his mouth to say something, _anything_, but Cook says, "Don't bother, David," and a muscle jumps in his jaw.

Cook stands up, carefully, and pulls on his leather jacket and reaches over to take the twenty dollar bill from David's hand. David feels like he's watching a car crash; he's glued to the seat and he can't bring himself to move but he doesn't want to just watch it all happen, and this is just -- David's life is just falling apart right now and he is never drinking again, ever. But he can't even blame the alcohol, he can't even blame _Paul_, because no one _made_ him drink it, or say all that stupid stuff, David just did. And as Cook walks out the door, David knows he's only got himself to blame.

\---

It's been two weeks since The Night (and yes, David capitalises it even in his head, because it was a _big deal_) and David's only cried into his pillow a little bit. He misses Cook more than he thought he would. It's just really lonely without him, and David feels totally lame but he misses seeing him and Cook's smile and just the fact that he could talk to him about anything and David doesn't even _care_ how stupid he is, he totally kind of has a major crush on Cook and it's just, it's not _fair_ that David is so stupid that he had to go and mess it up.

He's sat on his bed, trying to look like he's doing something other than feeling sorry for himself, when Paul says, "Oh, hey, Dave!" It's still rare that Paul is ever at the dorm, but there's apparently a big test tomorrow? Paul doesn't want to flunk out of Juilliard, anyway, so David's stuck with his company for the night. Paul's digging around under his pillow and David's wondering if he should be worried, and then something hits his face. It doesn't hurt, which is good, and David picks it up. It's just a letter. 

"Oh, thank you!" David says automatically and then, "Um, what is it? Exactly?"

"A letter," Paul proclaims triumphantly and yeah, okay, David _knew_ that, he was just wondering why Paul had a letter or felt the need to throw it at him. "It came for you last week."

David really wants to ask why Paul hasn't given it to him before now and why it was under his _pillow_, gosh, even though the answer probably wouldn't make much sense, but he catches sight of Cook's scribbled handwriting on the envelope and his breath stops in his throat. It's hard to tear the envelope open because his hands are shaking _so much_, it's kind of ridiculous, and he can hear the blood pounding in his ears and his heart beating a mile a minute.

Paul's saying something, in the background, but David ignores him because, hi, hello, this is from _Cook_, oh heck. It feels like forever before he gets the flap open, almost ripping the whole thing by accident, and a twenty dollar bill floats out and lands on David's lap. That's all, twenty dollars, and David just stares down at it like it's the answer to, like, the _universe_. He checks the envelope again, seeing if there's anything more in it, and he almost misses the note scrawled on the underside of the flap.

_I would've done it for free._

David's convinced that his heart actually stops, and his shaking increases by, like, a zillion times. It's just -- David doesn't even _know_, he can't believe he's seeing it. Because it's just, oh my heck, it's what David wanted to happen and it's just like in the movies and it's just... 

He hands the envelope to Paul, who is still watching the whole scene curiously, and says, "Can you--?" His throat is so dry that no words come out and David swallows with difficulty. "Can you read that?"

"Sure," Paul says, tugging the envelope out of David's hand and reading it with a flourish. "It says, 'I would've done it for free.'" It's _real_, it exists, and David can't even _think_ straight. "Good news?"

"The best," David says fervently and it is, it's amazing, it's -- a week late, David remembers with horror. "Oh -- oh gosh, you said -- that's from a week ago! I have to, I'm going out! Don't wait up!"

"It's two in the morning!" Paul yells as David grabs his jacket, pulling it on hurriedly. He puts his arms in the wrong sleeves and has to take the whole thing off and put it back on again and oh my gosh, this is never been so hard before, and he needs to see _Cook_. And Cook probably hates him as well, oh heck, because David didn't even write back or maybe Cook even thinks David hates _him_! This whole thing is just a disaster and as David flies out of the door, he just needs to find Cook. He just needs to make things okay again.

\---

David hasn't been back to the street where he met Cook, like, _ever_, so it's really difficult to find it again. He considers getting lost-on-purpose in the hope that he'll maybe wander back there but, um, it's way more likely that he'd just end up getting lost somewhere else, so. He's actually almost given up hope when he recognises the diner, where he sat and ate apple pie or whatever, and then a jolt of hope shoots through him when he recognises one of Cook's friends in the window.

David hasn't met any of Cook's friends, as such, but sometimes one of them comes to meet Cook when he leaves David's apartment and, well, if David's been watching through the window then it was only to make sure that Cook was safe. David has seen _Pretty Woman_, okay, he knows all the rules and how dangerous it is. Except -- Julia Roberts hadn't let anyone kiss her, not really, and Cook had let David. David isn't sure whether this is a good thing; it could just show how little David knows about Cook's, um, lifestyle, that he's basing it on _Pretty Woman_.

Either way, David needs to find Cook and Cook's friend will, hopefully, know where Cook is, so. He stands outside the diner for five minutes, convincing himself to just go in, and even imagines how easy it will be -- just, you know, open the door and walk in and sit down, and ends up planning out the entire conversation in his head just so he knows what to expect. It doesn't go that way, of course, but David feels better knowing the possibilities. Eventually, he works up the courage to go inside, and then stops awkwardly inside the door. Luckily, Cook's friend glances up and sees him.

"Hey! You're Dave's friend, right?" The guy's got an Australian accent, and his smile is wide and friendly which helps David relax. "Come sit over here, mate, I could do with talking to you." David scurries over, slipping gratefully into the seat opposite the guy, who flags down the waitress and asks for another coffee. David doesn't actually drink coffee because, hi, caffeine, but he appreciates the gesture and he can totally just... not drink it. It's fine. "Michael Johns, nice to meet you."

"David Archuleta," David says and then, because Cook had _said_ it'd get confusing, "but you can, um, call me Archie. If you want, I mean, it's just, Cook does? Because we have the same name, and you know Cook, so I thought, maybe, if you wanted?" He realises he's rambling and ends with a nervous laugh, biting his lip. Michael's expression doesn't change for a few moments, then he starts laughing.

"Wow, Cook said you were different, but I didn't see this coming."

"He's talked about me?" David asks hopefully, and then flushes when he realises how young he sounds. Michael doesn't call him on it, though, which is awesome because then David would just be totally humiliated, okay, and he's not sure he knows the way back to Juilliard from here on his own anyway.

Michael rolls his eyes. "Yeah, up until about two weeks ago. I don't want to know what happened between you two," and oh my gosh, he's talking like they're a _couple_ or something and okay, David is just going to, like, die now, "but -- I think this could help."

"Um, you think what could help?" David asks, before he can stop himself, because anything that could help him right now would be totally awesome, just saying.

"Dave is with a client right now," Michael says carefully and, uh, that doesn't help actually. But Michael doesn't stop talking, which is good. "He's going to get three hundred dollars for it."

"Oh, wow," David says and then, since Michael is still looking at him expectantly, "um, is that -- a lot?"

"It's enough that he'll be able to record and distribute an album," Michael says and then, because sorry, okay, but David still doesn't quite understand what this has to do with him, "This means it's his last client, Archie. He can stop after this."

"But -- I'd want to, um, be with him anyway," David says, and he's just really confused because what Cook does has never really -- it's not an issue, at least, it wasn't until the whole stupid kiss thing.

"You're an idiot," Michael proclaims, slumping back in his seat and then he glances up over David's head and says, "And that goes for both of you."

"Both of--" David says, but then someone sits down next to him and says, "You're not much better, Johns, trying to steal my clients?"

"You don't have clients anymore," Michael says, and he grabs David's hand across the table and says, "This one's all mine."

"Um," David says, stupidly, and then the person -- Cook -- slips an arm around him and tugs him close against his side and David swallows and says, "I thought you hated me?"

Michael laughs and raises his hands. "I take it back, this one's all _yours_, Dave, mate." He stands up, finishing his coffee in one gulp and shoves his hands in his pockets. "I'm going back to the wife, I'll catch you later."

"Yeah, later," Cook says without even looking at him and turns to face David. "What? Why would I hate you?"

"Because!" David says, and maybe his voice is a little higher than usual but he is stressed and it's just, it's difficult to think properly when Cook is _so close_! "Because, we kissed, and Julia Roberts says that you're not allowed and I thought, I mean, I don't -- I didn't want to pay you," he finishes lamely.

Cook laughs again and says, "I'm not in the line of giving out freebies, Archie," but there's something changed in his voice and he sounds really serious, even though he laughed.

David's mouth is dry suddenly and he wets his lips, missing the way that Cook's gaze is drawn to his mouth. "But you sent the money back," he says lamely, and it's just, it had to mean something. It did.

"I didn't want that to be work," Cook says, still in this low voice and it's really -- um, it's just, it's kind of... sexy, is all. "David, I wanted it to be more."

David swallows, hard, and feels kind of sick in a good way because Cook is just, he's staring at him all intently and David isn't sure if he can breathe right now. "It," David starts and his voice cracks halfway through, so he licks his lips again and says again, "It _was_ more than that. To, um, me."

Cook opens his mouth and starts to say something but then shakes his head and says, "Oh, fuck this." He pulls David towards him, putting his hands on either side of David's face. "I just didn't want to be with you while I was being a hooker. You deserve better."

"I don't want better," David says, although Cook's kind of squishing his mouth with his hands. "I want _you_."

Cook's eyes darken and he pushes David back into the seat, moving closer until he's _right there_, and David doesn't hesitate in closing the gap between them. His mouth meets Cook's and, oh my gosh, it's _so much_ better than the first time and it's like -- it's kind of electric, not in a painful way, but in a way where David half expects that if he opens his eyes he'll be able to see sparks between them.

"I thought I'd lost you," Cook says, later, when he's walking David back to Juilliard and David squeezes his hand.

"I'm right here."


End file.
